A Crime of Passion
by LovelyGucci
Summary: Everyone thought A committed suicide because she couldn't handle the pressure of following L. There was more to the story, though. BB/A
1. Ace

Disclaimer: We don't own Death Note.

A/N: Here's our mini BB story. It's our first time writing a horror/angst kinda story so this should be exciting! Hope you enjoy and please review!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Ace**

She awoke with a start to the suffocating darkness. There was no air. There was no light. Darkness pressed in on her face, muffling the sounds of the world around her into a nearly silent hum. She was screaming inside for someone to help, but the cries never reached the outside; never voiced the desperation of her panic. She flailed her arms, reaching out into the darkness. And she found him. She felt him. He was holding her there. B.

And suddenly, there was a light. Far away, across the planes of blackness that filled her senses. But it was creeping closer. Soon it would be near. Soon it would engulf her. And yet, even as the bright light came for her, the panic was replaced by an odd sense of calm. She knew her fate now, and she would not fight it.

"I love you," she heard him say. "And I'm sorry."

They say when you're about to die, your entire life flashes before your eyes. So why was it that as the blinding light of death crept toward her, she could think of nothing but B? His face, his voice, his every motion filled her mind. And then, as the light met her and erased the darkness around, she realized that B was her life. He was her entire existence. He was her love. He was her soul. And now, he was her murderer.

* * *

Dark hair hovered in front of B's eyes as he scanned the mess hall of Wammy's house. Rows upon rows of the best and brightest sat crowded together, the noise of their conversations echoing through B's head; an irritating buzz he couldn't seem to drown out, even with his own ever racing thoughts. Red scrolled above their heads, revealing the very identities they sought to hide and the ticking clock of their predetermined deaths. That was the curse of the Shinigami eyes; to know a name and lifespan before you even knew a personality.

He poked at the mess on his plate with his fork, glancing back up at the sound of a footstep. It was a blonde girl with judging eyes that instantly turned B off. She was just like the others. She hesitated at the empty seats around him, but then continued onward, off to a table with more suitable neighbors obviously. B was alone again, and yet he wasn't surprised. Though, he wasn't the only one who ate alone.

His eyes crossed the hall and fell on who was perhaps the classmate he despised the most. The classmate who ate alone, not because he was shunned away, but because he chose to. L. He was, according to everyone in the school, the best. The absolute greatest mind in the world. Fifteen. Raven hair that fell in every direction but the way it should be parted. A baggy t-shirt and blue jeans that fell so uncaringly on the hunched over back of the boy who wore them. Fifteen, and destined to be the world's greatest detective.

And for this reason, B despised him. In his own opinion, he could be the best. Would be, if not for L. He was the barrier that kept everyone from seeing B's own talent. And yet, B knew the position belonged to him. He had the mind, the determination, he just lacked the support. The blind fools of the orphanage who couldn't see that he was the best. Of course, the red scrolled above this man's head…L Lawliet…didn't indicate an abnormally short life, and he would be above B in everyone's eyes for the remainder of those years to come.

And yet there was another. An A. A second person that had surpassed him mentally and therefore put him in third place. A runner up.

His eyes traveled along the tables, resting on her. Sixteen. Younger than B, but just barely, and a long lifespan that guaranteed her aging through the years. They called her Ace, but he saw that she was really Allison Holloway. She was second to L, and one above B. Long auburn hair that fell around her face, which lit up as she spoke to those around her. Quite the social butterfly. She never ate alone; never was alone. She somehow managed to come in second place, despite the obvious social network that one would assume to be a distraction. And yet, she was different.

Clearly, she was not just like the others. She was different from the blonde girl who had refused to sit near B, and different from those who laughed around her. There was a fierce determination in her eye; an obvious sense of justice and hard work that could not be ignored. B almost considered her a rival, like L, but he didn't. As he studied her, he concluded that she would be nothing. It didn't matter if she was A and he was B. His target to match was L, and all others were nothing. She was meaningless.

Though, despite his will, B wasn't sure how to surpass L. He was not sure how to show his superiority. He would never be L, so it seemed useless to try to match him. No, he would have to beat him. To make himself the best while at the same time removing some of L's credibility. One day, he would know how to do just that, but for now, he would stay at the orphanage and uselessly let the days slide by him.

B looked back to his plate, deciding the nutritional value was not worth the pain of eating it. He grabbed both sides of the tray and stood up, carrying it toward the clean up area where a few others stood. He dumped it in the bin and turned, glancing at his feet as he walked. Green, blue, green, blue, blue, red…he never could make sense of the pattern of the tiles. And suddenly, there were bare feet in his view, and he looked up to see L standing before him, clearly not watching where he was going either.

"I'm sorry…" the dark haired boy muttered, moving around B and dumping his own tray in the container. He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued out of the mess hall, staring straight ahead as he walked. B stared after him, blocking the path of those that shuffled around him.

"Hey, move it," a sharp voice said from behind B. He turned to see an annoyed looking brunette girl edging around him, and stepped out of her pathway. She shot him a glance and continued back toward her friends that she probably didn't deserve in the first place.

B moved his feet forward, past the tables upon tables of students. He felt a few glances on his shoulders, but ignored them. He passed A and her friends, and finally reached the doors, which he pushed through and into the hall. Soon it would be time for class, so he headed that direction. He would sit there alone for a while, but it was no matter. All he needed was his thoughts.

* * *

"Seat's taken," a dusty haired boy said as B approached. The class was empty, aside from this child who obviously felt the need to go to class early as well. B's dark eyes lingered on the boy for a moment before he reached out and slid the chair from the desk, sitting down with deliberate finality. The boy looked at him before rolling his eyes and turning from B. He wouldn't turn back to talk. They never did.

The seats filled up around him as student after student piled into the classroom. To his left, the early arriving boy who had claimed B's seat, and to his right a peppy girl who's voice cut through the air like a bell. B resisted the urge to tell her to shut her mouth as he eyed the door. Finally, there was L, shuffling in calmly and taking the seat in the front. He pulled his knees to his chest and sat, waiting like the rest.

And to the back, there was Ace. She was chatting with care free casualness to the group around her; girls and boys alike. The girls looked to her with obvious envy. Her features were flawless. Bright green eyes and a smile that washed away worry; any girl there wouldn't hesitate to trade places with her.

The boys looked at her with obvious wanting. She was clearly the most beautiful in the room, and therefore the prize at the end of a race for her affections. Ace of hearts, if you wanted the full nickname. All the kings, jacks, and jokers alike wanted her, but she was the only copy in the deck. And it was clear, through her polite conversing with the boys around her, that she would never draw their card. They were just hopeless fools to the game, and so clearly not destined to be the winner of her affections.

"Page fifty-nine, where we left off yesterday," the hopeless instructor said as he entered the room. Most of his pupils had surpassed him mentally, and so the lessons were reviews, at best. B nearly pitied his efforts, but he only had a year or so left to live anyway so there was no point in wasting sympathy on him.

Books and papers shuffled as the students complied with his demands, B included in the lot. L was the only one who left his desk blank, and the teacher looked to him.

"L, your book?"

"No need. I recall the information perfectly," L explained, placing his thumb to his lip. "The text of page fifty-nine began with the phrase 'Justice has been a concept debated among individuals for many years,' correct?" The professor checked his notes and nodded, a smile gracing his face.

"Excellent work L. It's always good to see someone so devoted to the work as to memorize it." B glanced to his book bitterly. He did not need to have it open either. He could remember every word on that page, and every color printed. But, complying with the demands of the professor, he once again let L surpass him. Yet again L came out on top in a situation in which B could have reigned supreme.

"Well L," the professor continued. "Since you are clearly prepared, perhaps you could share your opinion on the subject with the rest of us."

"Yes," L agreed. "I feel, though I'm sure I don't have to stress this point to many of you, that justice is supreme. There is no greater purpose than to deliver ultimate justice to an enemy, and to win the competition."

"Hmm any opposing opinions?" the professor asked, looking to the group. B so desperately wanted to argue with L in a point, but he found that he often agreed with him on most subjects, and this was proving no different. Justice was supreme.

But, among the inferior classmates that wouldn't dream of arguing with L, a brave hand shot up.

"Yes Ace?" the teacher asked. "A different viewpoint?"

"Yes," Ace nodded. "Now please, don't get me wrong, justice is an important subject, but don't you think compassion is an equally important one? Sympathy for your enemy's actions that might explain why they did what they did? Justice is satisfying, but not everything is about winning and losing." The professor was nodding, and B didn't think he had any sort of opinion to offer. Thankfully for him, the bright minds in the room could drive their own debates, and so L picked up the argument.

"I see your point," he acknowledged, "but I have to disagree. Everything is about winning and losing, and therefore the sense of justice would have to come before a sense of compassion. Aside from a few forgiving exceptions, which might very well include you Ace, most people would rather see their enemies paying the price for the wrong's they have inflicted rather than forgiving and taking the time to understand their actions."

"In terms of human nature as a whole, perhaps," Ace agreed. "But I think your opinion on compassion stems from your own dislike of losing. Am I wrong?"

"You're quite right actually," L agreed. "I hate losing."

"Well there you go," Ace nodded, smiling slightly in her triumph. "That means that for you everything is about winning and losing, but not to others, which means the concept of justice isn't always on top." L was looking at her with unblinking eyes, and the slight nervousness that rose up in Ace was evident to those around her.

"I see…" L mused, placing his thumb to his lip. "But unfortunately I find that you are quite wrong Ace. You yourself have proven my point that everything is about winning and losing."

"Care to elaborate?" Ace said, raising her eyebrows. The room was a pit of silence, everyone's eyes glued on the small debate ensuing. And everyone knew what was coming. No one ever debated with L on the pure fact that his intellect allowed him to think ahead of opponents, and this was proving no different. Much relating to the topic, Ace was about to lose.

"Certainly," L agreed. "You claim that winning and losing isn't everything, but this conversation now is nothing more than a competition. If compassion had been you're driving force, you would have left my opinion alone, accepting my beliefs as my own and feeling no need to argue. However, you raised your hand and attempted to convince me of your own ideas. And when I disagreed, you continued the debate in attempt to make your own opinion above mine. You raised your hand to win this argument against me, correct?" Ace was completely speechless. She had no counterargument for that, and so she backed out.

"Let's just…agree to disagree," she winced. It was pure defeat, and what was worse that he had been right. Now that she had lost, she realized how important winning had been to her. L turned back around in his seat as the professor read from the book robotically. B glanced at L for a moment before shifting his gaze to the redhead. She was looking at her book, but so clearly going over the debate in her head meticulously, searching for a place she could have said something better. B found himself wanting to talk to this girl. To share with her his feelings of defeat as well. They were both alike, despite all their differences. They were both runner-ups to L. But he knew he would never speak to her. She was A and he was B, and there were more differences there than anything.

* * *

B kept his head down as he wandered through the crowds in the hall. He preferred it this way. There was no point in looking at the faces of those who would never regard him as anything. They would never see his true personality, so he had no interest in knowing theirs. And beyond that, their deaths were already written above their heads. Scrolled out in the vivid red writing that he had always been able to see. He never understood why he had that power; the eyes. He learned at a young age not to get close to people with life spans that promised they'd be ripped away from that world, and it wasn't long before he learned not to get close to people in general. If they weren't taken away, the relationship would end in betrayal. It was human nature. That's what B chose to tell himself; to keep himself from wanting the closeness that other humans sought. Closeness was nothing but a weakness. Closeness, relationships, love…all weaknesses.

And above all that, there was no one. B had no one. No parents, no friends. There was no one to be close to in the first place. His life was alone.

Left, right, left, right; the rhythm of his walk was steady. Not in a rush to go anywhere, but in no way wanting to linger any longer than he had to. There were fabrics brushing against his arms, the bare skin of others, and occasionally the hard corners of books and other items. Everyone headed in different directions as the noise of conversations and motion swarmed the hall.

Suddenly, B was stopped. A force he had not been expecting that knocked him backward and momentarily made him forget what was going on. And when he looked back up, it was her.

"Ow…" she mumbled, straightening herself back out and holding the place on her head where they had collided. "I'm so sorry, I just wasn't paying attention! You're B, right?" He held his head too, a throbbing he could have done without. Sharp and pounding.

"Uh…yes?" he managed to say, unsure of why this redheaded girl had any desire to stop and talk to him. She should push past; brush off a rough apology and move on. But instead, she lingered, smiling in a genuinely friendly way back at him.

"I'm Ace," she smiled carelessly. "I don't think we've ever been formally introduced." B's hand left his head and he stood before her, unsure of what to say. What does one say in situations like this? They'd never met. They had no history together at all. He kept his face straight as he spoke, deciding it best not to waste a smile on a chance encounter.

"No," he said. "I'm B, as we've established." And that was the end of what he assumed was needed for this meeting. He made to continued around her, but then there was something on his arm. Her hand.

"Well, you don't have to run off so quickly," she told him, turning in such a way that they were facing again, but on opposite sides from before.

"Why not?" B wondered. "This was nothing more than an accidental meeting, and I doubt we'll have conversations in the future. There's no point in continuing what is bound to be a pointless waste of our day." Ace narrowed her eyes.

"That was cynical," she pointed out. She was looking at him with her full attention, and B found himself intrigued as to why she would want to continue this talk. "What makes you conclude that we will never talk again? Or that this talk would be a waste of our day? Maybe we were meant to run straight into each other today. Maybe one of us will have an impact on the other." It was B's turn to narrow his eyes. An optimistic viewpoint much different from those around.

"We don't associate with the same people," B said simply. He had no desire to argue with this hopeful stranger he would never speak with again. He watched as her eyes scanned his face, taking in the dark hair, the brown eyes, and the unreadable expression that looked back at her.

"You don't associate with people," she continued. "But you're going to. Because you and I are going to get to know each other better. I'm going to show you that us running into each other was for a reason. And I'll bet we have more in common than you think." It was B's turn to scan her. They were nothing alike. She was beautiful, with clothes that fit her slim figure and reflected bright colors that apparently stemmed from her cheerful personality. He was plain, with a black shirt and worn out jeans that reflected nothing but his indifference toward others. And yet she insisted that they were meant to be something more than just two people brushing by each other.

"Very well," B said, giving in to her convincing tone. "Show me." He looked at her, and she nodded.

"Soon," she agreed. "And so I will definitely see you later," she added this with finality and held out her hand to him. A common gesture; the symbol of an agreement. B held out his, and she grasped it. Her hand was warm in his, and he took a moment to absorb the feeling of another person's touch. And in a moment, it was over. She smiled and turned away from him. Though he still believed this to be a chance encounter, he accepted that he would meet with her again. When, however, was uncertain.


	2. Love

A/N: I was going to wait until we got some more reviews for this story but it doesn't look like that's gonna happen. I guess we're losing our touch. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to RulerofFire!

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**Chapter 2: Love**

Ace was among her friends, who were all chatting casually about various and completely unimportant topics. She couldn't seem to keep her wandering mind focused on them, even as they nudged her arm and met her gaze. They were all the same. Every single one of them was concerned with the same thing; being a part of a group. None of them were truly close, and Ace couldn't say she really knew any one of them personally. It was all about being together rather than being alone, even if closeness was never really achieved.

And that was perhaps what Ace was searching for from day to day. Closeness to someone. A friend, a mentor, a lover…anyone to share her true feelings with. She didn't have anyone like that. However, she felt that that could change. She knew there had to be someone out there she could connect with.

Her gaze shifted to the doorway of the mess hall, past the crowd of students hungrily devouring their food. She smiled slightly as her eyes landed on him. B. She'd never put much thought into him before, but now she saw that there was something about him. He was different. A much desired quality among the crowd of matching personalities with different faces.

"Who are you looking at?" the brunette beside Ace asked curiously, following her gaze. "Him?"

"Him," Ace responded with a slight nod. The brunette furrowed her eyebrows.

"Why?"

"Because I think I like him," Ace concluded. "Yes. I'm going to get to know him better." The brunette was thrown by this unexpected comment. She looked to the others at the table, who matched her confused expression.

"Ace," a boy so clearly enthralled with her began, the idea of her liking another was obviously threatening to him. "You realize that that's B, right? He's a freak." There were a number of agreeing murmurs and nods, but Ace shrugged.

"We're all freaks," she said. "So I'm not worried." She stood up and headed over to where B was walking, leaving the table behind. They all looked to each other and quickly concluded that she would be back. They were all intelligent enough to realize that that may not necessarily be the case, but it was more comforting to believe that Ace hadn't just ditched them for someone like B.

Ace walked confidently toward the dark haired boy she'd run into the day before, smiling when she met his eyes. He paused in his walk, clearly surprised that she was approaching him, even after their agreement. She reached him and tilted her head to the side.

"Surprised?" she wondered. B took in her expression and realized she really did want to know him. For whatever reason, she had an interest in pursuing some sort of friendly relationship with him.

"Yes," he said.

"Well let's go," she said, finding herself daring enough to grab his hand and pull him toward the door. She wasn't one for tiptoeing around her goals. She planned to get to know this intriguing stranger, and so she would make it happen.

"Go?" B wondered, stopping slightly as she tugged his hand. It was odd, to have someone pulling him like this. An invitation, no a desire, to take him somewhere.

"Well, we're going to have conversations," Ace explained, turning to face him. She could see the shocked gazes of her so called group of friends, and she smiled slightly. It was satisfying to see that she was surprising people with her actions. It made her feel like she was finally doing something exciting, and therefore worth her time. "I just don't want to do it here." B furrowed his eyebrows, but allowed her to continue forward, pulling him behind her. Their footsteps matched, and she didn't release his hand even after they were past the crowd and away from the mess hall.

The hallways were empty, and she pulled him through toward the back of the school. He felt odd, having her hand in his. And strangely odder when she released his hand and he felt a longing to have it back. He liked the warmth of her hand against his for whatever reason.

"Where are you going?" he asked, now following alongside her, his arms swinging freely at his sides. He could feel the slight rush of air when her swinging arms passed his, and could hear the subtle difference in the weight of their footsteps echoing through the hallways.

"_We _are going to my favorite place," she informed him. She had a determined look on her face, and she pushed through the back doors of the orphanage with force, sending them swinging apart. She walked out into the sunlight of the day and B followed, the doors slamming to a close behind them. "I found it a long time ago during one of my fruitless efforts to get out of this place. It's the most peaceful spot around."

"You don't like it here?" he asked. Ace's green eyes looked to him and she raised an eyebrow. The sun was gleaming against her red hair, shooting tiny hints of gold and bronze off the individual strands.

"You do?" she wondered. "You seem pretty lost to me. Always searching for something you can't have."

"You think I'm searching for something?"

"I know you are," Ace told him. "Because like I said before, we've got more in common than you think." They had been walking for quite a while, and B saw that where she was taking him was outside the grounds of the school. He'd never really left before. There had been no need. But now, under the guide of this redheaded acquaintance, he was running free. "I can tell that you're looking," she continued. "For a way to outdo L." B didn't respond, but Ace knew she was right. "I know this because I was the same way. It's hard to be like us you know. So close to being chosen, so intelligent, but not quite enough to be what everyone knows L is. Not quite enough to be the best."

"How do you know we're not the best?" B asked. He was intrigued by how this girl thought, and by how much she appeared to know. They were nearly at their destination now. He could just tell by the expression on Ace's face. A happiness different from the one she displayed at the school; one that was seemingly free from worry.

"I realized recently that it's not about being the best," she replied. "We can't follow the same path as L and expect to be exactly like him. We have to make our own ways. We can't all be the greatest detective. Maybe we're destined to be something different." She paused in her walk, and looked to B with a smile. "We're here."

The place she had led him to was a small park. Nothing more than a few trees and benches, and the bright splashes of color that the flowers offered to the scene. A fence surrounded the space, cutting it off from the busy surroundings. And she had been right. It was peaceful. There was no one around but them, and somehow the sounds of the outside world were drown out by the chirping of the birds.

"You have a lot of beliefs in destiny, don't you?" B asked her curiously. Ace was facing him now, and she nodded.

"I suppose I do," she agreed. "Is that your only impression of me?"

"Excuse me?"

"What do you think of me?" Ace asked. "I'm curious to know what you think of the girl who insists on forming a friendship with you."

"First impressions?" B asked. "Or the opinion I've formed since we met?"

"Both," Ace decided. "What am I like through your eyes?" She motioned for him to come toward a bench, and she sat down, B following her. She turned toward him with an expectant look, patiently awaiting his answer.

He found her last question an interesting one in the way it was worded. Through B's eyes she was Allison Holloway. He could see the identity that those at Wammy's sought to hide. But he knew she was looking for a different answer.

"First impression," he said. "You're quite beautiful, and you have a multitude of friends who are all identical to each other. But you come off as slightly different than them. More interesting." Ace smiled just the slightest and nodded.

"And your impression now?"

"You're much different than anyone gives you credit for," he answered. "You have a unique take on things, and you're obviously searching for something yourself."

"You think so?" she asked.

"If you weren't looking for something, you wouldn't be sitting here talking to a stranger."

"Hmm," Ace nodded. "But you're not really a stranger anymore." They were still where they sat, and a number of birds were making their way toward them in hopes for food. A swirling motion of gray feathers and one burst of white.

"What's your impression of me then?" B asked as she reached her hand out toward the birds. "They won't come to you," he added, still awaiting her answer. Much to his surprise, however, the single white bird in the flock perched itself on her finger and she lifted it with a smile.

"You, B, are this bird," she answered. She glanced over at him for a moment before turning back to the bird that rested on her finger, its white feather's bright in the sun.

"I don't understand," he said in a slightly frustrated tone.

"See the grey birds?" she said, pointing toward them. "None of them are you. You're this white one here. You're different from the other ones. You stand alone. And see even though this bird is with me now, it's going to fly away soon because it has no attachment to me. And so because of that, you are even more like the bird because I know you're thinking that after today, you'll be back to the way you were. A lone white bird among a flock of grey. That's my impression of you. But what you don't know is that now there's me, and I'm not planning on letting you go yet."

"But you're a grey bird," he said, picking up on her analogy. He leaned down in an attempt to make a bird come to him as well, but they scattered in a burst of feathers. He watched them go in slight disappointment, and heard laughter coming from beside him. Pleasant laughter, surprisingly enough. He was usually annoyed by the sound, but coming from her it didn't have the same effect.

"I don't see what's funny," he said blankly, looking back up at her. He heard the nearly silent sound of her breathing returning to normal as her laughter quieted.

"Nothing," she said. "And as for what you were saying before, I'm not a grey bird. I don't want to be. I'm not even sure I want to be a bird at all."

"Well luckily for you you're not," he pointed out. "You're a human." Ace smiled, slightly amused, and held her hand out, allowing the white bird to fly off after the others. She watched it go for a moment and then looked at him.

"Well, I think I'm starting to know you a little bit better now," she said. "Do you like the park?" Her eyes were focused on him now, and he looked around at the surroundings.

"Yes I do," he concluded. Ace seemed satisfied enough with this answer, and so stood up and took his hand yet again.

"Good," she said, pulling him up and leading him toward the gate of the fence that would lead back out to the world they'd momentarily left behind. "I'm going to bring you here all the time. We're going to be great friends. Maybe more than that." This stopped B short. He pulled his hand away and looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. She looked back at him, smiling slightly.

"More…?" he began before she grabbed his hand again and dragged him from the peaceful park.

"Come on," she said. "We're going to be late for our next class." B nodded and allowed himself to be pulled after her, but his mind was somewhere else now. Was she honestly considering the possibility that they could be more than just acquaintances? More than just two people who had happened to bump into each other? B hadn't thought so, but for the first time he was allowing himself to believe that maybe they could be.

* * *

Ace and B became a well known pairing at Wammy's. The stares were unavoidable, the muttering of disapproval constant, but Ace didn't care. And B hadn't given the other students of the orphanage the time of day before the unexpected meeting and so naturally he didn't care what they thought now either. What he did know, however, was that Ace was the exception to his rule.

He had gone his whole life certain that growing close to someone was foolish; an unnecessary desire that only resulted in a weakened personality. And yet, there was Ace. She was the perfect opposite to him, yet they managed to fit together effortlessly. And B wanted it that way. He found that having a companion, just having that one friend, lessened the pressures of being B and not L just the slightest bit. And any little thing that reminded him that he was more than just third best in the school was good. Ace did that.

And Ace was feeling quite confident about their friendship as well. She had never met anyone like B; smart, unique, exactly the person she had been searching for. They were undeniably a great pair, even if others couldn't see it.

Unavoidably, the two were falling for each other. A sort of comforting feeling they only found when they were together. Neither one of them had voiced this obvious truth out loud, but of course that wouldn't last long. Ace was not one to keep her opinions and feelings to herself.

"B," she told him one night. They were sitting on a bench in the park Ace had shared with him. It was dark; a clear night with no stars and no clouds. Pitch blackness and silence. Surely they shouldn't be out that late and away from the school, but neither of them was particularly concerned about that. "I've decided we are definitely destined to be more than just friends." B's eyes widened slightly, but of course she couldn't tell in the darkness. Destiny. It was a word he hadn't been particularly keen on using before, but now he found that it was a reasonable explanation for his unexpected relationship with Ace.

"You do?" he asked.

"Well, you don't have to pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Ace said. "I know you feel it too. We're so clearly on the road to love."

"Love." B repeated. An interesting concept.

"Yeah I think so," Ace told him. He felt her hand on his now, and he allowed her to grasp it in hers. "One day, we'll be in love. When that day comes for me, I'll let you know. But for now, I wanted to hear your thoughts on the subject." Ace was always amazed by her willingness to just state what she was feeling in words. No games, no lies; she would let you know exactly what was on her mind, and she never hesitated to ask for the same in return.

"I think," B finally said after a moment of thought. "That you may be right."

"And so you're willing to follow this through?" she asked. He felt her shoulder touching his, and realized that she had scooted closer to him. He nodded, but quickly remembered that the gesture would go unseen.

"Yes," he finally said aloud.

"Good," Ace said. There was the slightest breath of relief after her voice, and B wondered if she had been worried he would refuse her. He found it hard to belief that he could make possibly the most outgoing individual nervous. But as she continued, she was sounding much like herself. "Because I think you are exactly what I was searching for."

"Why do you always point these things out?" B asked her. "You could have just waited for this relationship to progress naturally."

"Waiting is pointless if we both feel the same way," she replied. "Besides, agreements with you are my favorite."

"We made an agreement just now?"

"Yes," Ace answered. "If you were paying attention, you'd know that you just promised me you'll fall in love with me one day. I can't wait to hear you say it." B didn't know how to respond, but he tried his best.

"You're very unique," he told her.

"Compliment accepted," Ace said with a slight chuckle. And the next thing B knew, there was something warm on his face. Her hand. And suddenly, her lips were on his; soft, but expectant. Clearly, she would not be satisfied until he was returning the gesture, and so he did.

At first, against her lips, B's had been hard and unprepared. But quickly, they were gentle, and she felt the cliché feelings rise up in her. Fireworks, or whatever else it was that these moments were described in. Yes, this was certainly the perfect seal to the agreement they had made. One day, she was certain, they would be in love.

Finally they broke apart, the air suddenly more refreshing after being momentarily deprived from it. And Ace's hand was still in his, and he wanted it there.

"We should go back to Wammy's," B told her. "It's late."

"I wish we didn't have to," Ace sighed. B stood up, but didn't hear the motions of her standing beside him. He turned to the direction she sat and waited.

"Are you going to come with me?" he asked after a moment. Her hand was still in his, and he felt the weight of her standing as she pulled herself up, her fingers tightening around his hand.

"Of course," she said. "You should expect to see a lot of me. I'm going to be a big influence on your life, and I'm going to follow you wherever you want to go." She linked arms with him and the soft thud of their footsteps began rhythmically as they headed toward the school.

"That's an awful lot to commit to," B pointed out. "You certain you want to make that agreement so early?"

"Yes," Ace answered him. Her voice was firm; not the slightest hint of uncertainty. The air was cool, the night perfectly still. But the feelings rising up between them were the complete opposite. Warm, and excited. They walked to Wammy's, arm in arm; total opposites that were now paired for the long run.


	3. Death

**Chapter 3: Death**

Ace and B spent the next three years at Wammy's house, getting to know each other as much as was possible. Ace was more willing to give information up about herself. She was open and trusting somehow. B was not. He never did tell her about the eyes, and he was adamant with himself that he never would. She didn't need to know that. But from her angle, they were free of secrets.

After Wammy's, they moved to a small apartment; just the two of them. L would go off to solve the most difficult cases of all time, but B and Ace had decided that with their education they would settle down and try to lead a normal life. A simple life. A life free from the identities that made them nothing more than second and third to L.

Therefore, Ace had been quite insistent upon being called Allison the moment their feet left Wammy's. Allison Holloway. The name that matched the red. No lies, no alias. Allison.

B, on the other hand, was not so eager to leave B behind. B. He wanted the satisfaction of turning B from third to first. From turning B to L. Yet, she insisted he leave it behind. She wanted him to put it all away. To let go of the notion of being greater than L. Of being the best.

"I'm not going to do it," he told her as they unpacked their new lives. Not much, really. A few boxes, some clothes. "I want to be called B. And one day, B will be greater than L." Allison sighed, and turned to him with raised eyebrows.

"No he won't," she told him. "B will never be the world's greatest detective as long as L's around. And neither will A. And we will never surpass him, so obsessing over the idea is pointless." B placed a box down with force. A thud that caught her attention.

"Why is it that you can have faith, be so optimistic about the world, so certain in everything, except me?"

"I'm certain about you," she argued. "I believe in you, Beyond Birthday. I do not, however, believe in the ability of B to be greater than L. L has become a goal you will never reach. You should pave your own way, not strive to match someone else's." Pave your own way. Intriguing, he thought. To not struggle to match L. Perhaps, maybe, there was some brilliance in that.

"You're right," he agreed. "How foolish of me to think that. But I will be great."

"I know," Allison agreed. "As will I."

"I will be the world's greatest," B continued. "In something. I will find my place in this world and become something no one else can."

"Yes," Allison nodded, leaning over to kiss his lips. He could feel the smile on them, and then saw it when she pulled away. True happiness. "And I'll be right there beside you, Beyond." And so he was Beyond. Beyond Birthday. His own identity, and he suddenly felt brand new.

* * *

"Beyond?" He heard her voice. Distant, but coming closer. And soon she appeared, a smile graced her face. She made her way to where he sat, and Beyond smiled back. But there was something different. Something had changed about her. What was it? "I have an interview," she informed him happily. That wasn't it. There was something else. "It came up out of thin air. I applied months ago, you remember? And they told me no positions would be available. Well there is one, as apparently a staff member died unexpectedly. Horrible, really, but it means I'm nearly guaranteed the position. I'm going to meet with them Monday."

"Monday," he repeated. He heard every word, yet was unfocused as they sat. What had changed? And suddenly, as his eyes left her features and traveled to the writing above her head, he knew. A lifespan once so long was now dramatically shorter. It was Friday. Friday, Saturday…Sunday. That was the day. Three days from now, and Allison Holloway's life would end. But how had it changed? Something unpredictable, something that would never have affected her life that now did. The death of the worker, perhaps? His end meant hers? It was too much to think about. What he did know, what he did see, was her lifespan. Different. Short. Final.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Warmth on his face. Her hand, in comfort. But he couldn't tell her. He should stop it though. Revert it back to the lifespan it had been before. Change the decision.

"Sunday," he said quietly. Allison had no idea what he meant, but she answered.

"My flight," she told him. "How did you know?" Her flight. The end. That must be it. Her flight was her end. A crash, maybe? And it would be over.

"No," he said firmly. "You can't go." Allison looked over his features. Composed and strong. He had meant it, but she wouldn't change her mind. The opportunity was too perfect for this job. She had to go.

"But there's no reason to stay," she argued. "I'm not changing my mind." And as he looked over her face, he knew it was true. She wouldn't change her mind. She would do as she wanted, just as she always did. And he would stand by, and she would die, and he would grieve. Was that ultimately their destiny? "Will you come with me?" she wondered. "If I am to get the job, will you follow me?" Her hands were in his now, and her green eyes were locked on his.

"Yes," he said. "I will go wherever you go." He had no where better to go anyway. But, as he said the words, he knew there was no point. According to the numbers floating above her, she would go nowhere. Sunday would be her last day. For whatever reason, her lifespan had changed.

Beyond felt the pain of loss. She was here, holding his hand, but she was already gone. It was guaranteed. And he knew that this was how relationships ended; he had known it all along. Betrayal, or loss.

"I love you," she told him with a smile, clearly satisfied with his decision to go with her. It hadn't been the first time. She'd said it many times before; at Wammy's and in their apartment. Allison, for whatever reason, loved him with all she had. "Still no return?" she asked him after a moment. He kept silent, looking back at her, above her really, at the damned red letters. There had to be a way to change it. Or at the very least, take away the pain of the crash. Her final moments would be aboard a plane, full of fear that would only be amplified by the fear of those around her. There had to be something he could do about that. He would find a way; that he promised himself.

"I can't wait to hear you say those three famous words," she said, standing back up. "It will be perfect." Beyond watched her leave the room, lost in thoughts. How to take away the pain? Make her miss the flight maybe? That seemed like the most logical option. But that would be difficult. She would never allow him to distract her enough to miss the flight entirely. And on top of that, he could not be certain that it was the flight that spelled her end. It could be any unexpected event to take place that day. So what could he do? He had to figure it out soon. He was running out of time.

* * *

Beyond spent that night and the following day thinking. Meticulously going over every detail in his mind about what he knew and what he predicted. He had decided, with not much hope, of trying to talk her out of the flight. He was determined, but so was she. And he knew she wouldn't be one to give in, but still he thought it best to try. He had only come up with two options. One was that she would miss the flight, and two was that she would die. He was hoping he could make the first option become the reality.

"I do not want you to get on that plane tomorrow," Beyond told her. They were lying on their bed, one that they shared, both staring up at the ceiling. Sleep was apparently what should be happening, but neither of them could achieve it.

"I'm going to my interview," she answered, turning to see him. Her green eyes met his as he turned to face her. "I don't see why you want to stop me."

"I feel like it may be a bad idea," he said. "I want you to stay behind."

"No," she said firmly. "I'm sorry Beyond but this is something I want to do for myself. If I don't go, I'll be turning down an opportunity I might have had. I want the option of being able to take the job or refuse it."

"You might refuse the job, yet you're still going to go?" His eyebrows were furrowed, and Allison smiled slightly.

"Yes," she said. "I just want to have the choice." He shook his head slightly, again amazed by her thinking. He never would understand it fully.

"There's nothing I can say to make you stay?" he asked. Her face was thoughtful as she looked around the room. Finally, her eyes met his again.

"No, I'm going."

"I thought you might say that," Beyond nodded. And so he knew the second option would be the reality. He knew he could continue to be persistent. He could yell; demand she stay behind. But he also knew that would do nothing but drive her further away. That would do nothing but make her jump on the plane faster.

"Are you worried that I might leave?" she wondered.

"Yes," he answered honestly. However, to her, leave meant leave him for new opportunities. To him, leave meant leave forever.

"Well, I'm not leaving you behind," she answered, bringing herself closer to him. "You're coming with me wherever I go. It will be amazing."

"It would be," he agreed.

"It will be," she insisted. And before he could argue, her lips were on his. And he didn't protest. Instead, he pulled her closer. He realized unhappily that this was their last night together, and he wanted to make the most of it. Soon he felt the heat of her skin against his palms and the softness of her shirt against the back of his hands as they traveled up her figure. He pulled off her shirt and looked into her eyes rather than meeting her lips again. This was new for both of them, and he wanted to be certain. But he saw in her eyes that their desires at the moment matched, and so their lips met again.

He turned on top of her, and soon he felt the cool air of the room as his shirt left his body. He moved a hand down to her shirt, and kissed her with intensity; passion. He felt at that moment, which he imagined should have been completely happy, was bittersweet. He realized that this experience would ultimately be his first and his last. He would never feel the same way about another woman, and Allison would die tomorrow. He focused on the way her lips felt against his, and the perfumed fragrance that she always carried, and any other minute detail he could sense. He took in everything, because he knew that soon there would be nothing. Soon she would be gone.

* * *

Beyond looked around the dark room later that night, completely awake as Allison lay motionless beside him, asleep. Her breathing was slow and steady, and there was a look of satisfaction on her peaceful face.

Beyond was too filled with thoughts to think. He could not get his mind off the plane, off the frightening and unavoidable death she was bound to have. Unavoidable. He knew that she would die, and in exactly one hour it would be Sunday; the day of the flight.

The red scrolled above her head was menacing; hovering there beside him as a constant reminder of her fate. But what was bothering him more was the feeling that he could still avoid it. Not her death, but at least the horrific way he thought it would happen. But what could he do?

His eyes traveled across her form. There was moonlight shining in from the window, and she nearly glowed in its light. She was completely at peace, and Beyond thought that that was unfair; to have such a peaceful moment, completely unaware of the terrifying events of the following day. He found himself wishing that she could die right there, just as she was.

And suddenly, he realized that she could. He realized what he could do to stop her from meeting such a terrible end. It would be easy.

He sat up slowly, looking at Allison's face for a moment. Yes, this is what he should do. He took the pillow he had been lying on in his hands. Pure white and soft; a cushion, and a weapon.

Beyond brought the pillow over her and pressed it to her face, blocking off the air. He heard her breathing struggle and stop, and felt something he had not been expecting. Motion. She had woken up beneath the pillow and was fighting it, struggling against the event that would mean her end. He knew in that instant that she was feeling panic, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He pressed harder, and she flailed around, trying so desperately to escape. But he was too strong, and there was nothing she could do.

He felt something familiar rest on his arm. Her hand; something he had held so many times in the past. Her hand had found him, and she held his arm as her struggling lessened. He saw that she was done fighting, and she was now awaiting the end.

"I love you," he said for the first time. "And I'm sorry." And for some reason, she seemed content with that. Her hand slid away from his arm, and she seemed to be completely calm. And she was. She was calm, and content, and satisfied. Beyond Birthday was, from the moment she met him, all she cared about. He was her entire existence. He was her love. He was her soul. And now, he was her murderer.

And she had heard it. The one thing she had waited for, and the thing they had agreed upon that day in the park. Love. He loved her, and he had said the three words she'd been picturing, imagining, dreaming about for years. But none of her dreams matched the reality of the moment he uttered those words, yet for some reason she didn't care.

She would never know his motives. She would never know why he chose to end her life so suddenly that night. She would never know the driving forces behind his actions. What she did know, without the slightest doubt, was that Beyond Birthday loved her. That was all she needed, and so she met her end calmly. And she loved him too. Beyond Birthday. B.

Beyond held the pillow to her face for what seemed like forever. Even after she appeared to be gone, he didn't pull it away. He had to be certain. Finally, he removed the pillow and placed it where it had been, lying back down. He looked to her, and saw a different sense of peace than the one she'd had in her sleep before. This one was more final.

He looked up at the black ceiling as he thought about what he had just done. He had murdered the woman he loved. Forced the life out of her. And yet, he did not regret it. Surely that was better than what would have been waiting for her the next day. He did not feel guilty.

Instead, he felt a strange sense of power. He had changed her fate. He had challenged what those red numbers above her head told him, and he had taken her death into his own hands. He had killed her, and he felt powerful. And more than that, he felt strong. She had been struggling beneath him, and he had fought against her and won. A victory, he almost wanted to call it.

As his eyes drifted closed, he thought of the first time they'd met. She had been Ace then, and him B. It had been such an unexpected event, and one that ultimately changed their lives. And oh, how the students of Wammy's had stared. How could he end up with her? And how could she possibly like him? The only one who didn't seem to stare, who didn't seem to care about their relationship, was L.

L. Beyond hadn't thought of him in a while. L Lawliet; the world's greatest detective. He certainly had proven to be so, as evident from the news. Beyond found himself remembering his days as B, third to L. Allison had told him that he would never be the world's greatest detective with L around, and she had been right. He would have to be the world's greatest in something else. That something he wasn't sure of as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

B awoke late the next morning, nearly noon, tired from the previous night. He looked beside him and saw Allison. Her naked body, lying as still as before, though more pale now; all color and life gone from her complexion. He touched her hand and it was cold. She was definitely gone.

He turned on the television with the remote that was on the nightstand beside him, changing the channel to the news. And there it was. A plane crash. Yes, that had been her flight, and it had crashed. But she was not aboard, and it was because of him.

Beyond stood up from the bed and turned away from her. He would need to do something with the body later. Get rid of the evidence. No one really knew Allison, but someone would notice. They had a life free of Wammy's now, but the orphanage liked to keep tabs on its former students, especially two as important as they had been. They would surely notice. The last thing he needed was to have police after him, or maybe even L.

It was a funny notion to him. L chasing after the man who had come in third. He didn't think that would happen however, and his only concern was clearing himself from Allison's unexpected death. A suicide, perhaps? Yes, that seemed logical. He would dispose of the body and inform the school that Ace has left without a trace. He would sound panicked, believably concerned as to where she could be. And of course she would never return. He would even mail a letter to himself; a fabricated document from Allison detailing the reasons of her 'suicide.' The letter would be proof to anyone interested that she committed suicide. Wammy's would write it off as the pressure of trying to live up to L, because that would be the easiest solution. No one would really care what truly happened to Allison. Her death, or disappearance in their eyes, would be called a suicide with no question as to whether the letter was real or not. That would be the solution that would assure Beyond's innocence.

Maybe it would even fool L. He got satisfaction from the idea of L accepting the lie and news of her suicide. He wasn't sure why, but it gave him a sense of victory. He knew her death wouldn't mean a thing to L, but still, it would be a crime that would slip by him undetected. Beyond was a criminal, and L wouldn't even know.

Suddenly, almost as if someone turned on a light, Beyond was struck with what he considered brilliance. The perfect plan. The perfect way to match L, to surpass his greatness through a greatness of his own. Beyond began to pace the room, thoughts racing. It was clear, however, that Beyond was not suitable anymore. He was B again. B, who was so concerned with defeating L. B.

L solved every case that he took on. Every case, no exceptions. But what if he was met with a case that he could not solve? A crime meticulously planned and executed specifically for the purpose of being unsolvable to the world's greatest detective. He would have to kill again, yes, but he could do that. It had been easy, and he might even go as far as to say that he liked it. The power he got from it was strangely exhilarating.

A case L could not solve. That would be B's triumph. To create a case that L could not solve would make him better than L. He would be able to beat L. To become the world's greatest had been his goal, and now he had something specific to shoot for. The world's greatest criminal. That was it. He would become the world's greatest criminal and ultimately triumph over the world's greatest detective. And at the thought of this, B smiled to himself in his madness.

* * *

"I can't believe my plan didn't work," B muttered to himself as he sat on the cold stone floor of the prison that held him. Cold, hard, and silent. Those were his surroundings. "That damn Naomi Misora…so close…" He muttered these thoughts to himself constantly, even after all his time in prison. Three years. It was still all he could think about.

From behind him toward the door of the cell he heard a voice. An officer, informing him of something unexpected. No, it couldn't possibly be. But who? The officer must be mistaken, but B was certain he had heard his words correctly. There was someone there to see him. A visitor.


	4. L

A/N: Well, here's the last chapter of this one. Gotta say, it was a big change to write something like this but it was fun and we hope you guys enjoyed it! Please review!

* * *

**Chapter 4: L**

A visitor? B didn't know who to expect, and as he turned toward the entrance to the cell his eyes widened. But why? Why would he come here? L.

"I'll be right outside," the guard informed them. "You have five minutes, make it quick." L nodded and stepped into the cell area, his hands stuffed in his pockets. There were bars separating them, but B could see him clearly. He was the same. Older, but the same. Same raven hair, same baggy clothes, same wide eyes. L.

And B, completely different. Scars all along his body; the result of his burns. A constant reminder of his failed plan. Handcuffs linked his hands together, and he sat on the hard, tiny bed in the cell; defeated. Always defeated, he had no other feelings in him. But now, he felt curiosity, and he also felt anger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" B demanded harshly. There was no point in being polite. He hated this man. Hated everything about him. He'd spent a good portion of his time before his arrest trying to look like this man, and he hated himself for it. He hated himself for the fact that his plan had failed, and he hated L for the fact that he was the world's greatest detective. Hate, yet another feeling he found in himself.

"I thought I'd stop by and visit," L answered, looking around for a place to sit. There was nowhere, and so he settled for standing, rocking back and forth on his feet as his hands stayed hidden in his pockets. There was a look of curiosity on his face as B stared at him.

"Why?" he demanded. "You don't even know me."

"We were old classmates," L shrugged. "Do you normally not have visitors?" L's eyes were fixed on B, and B knew the question was rhetorical. L knew he didn't have visitors. L knew everything, or at least he appeared to.

"Why are you here?" he demanded again. L sighed. Long and thoughtful. Finally, he spoke, his eyes wandering around the room as he did so.

"Well, I find that I need a moment to look back on victories in my past," L explained. B's fist clenched. He was bragging; rubbing things in. "Granted I cannot take full credit. Naomi was of excellent assistance. You see, I am facing a very difficult case, and it is quite overwhelming at times."

"So you wanted to come see what's become of a criminal you actually captured," B nodded. His motions were bitter; angry. L was calm and casual.

"I don't mean to torment you with my visit," L explained. "But Naomi's name came up recently in this current investigation, and I found myself thinking of you. It's quite a shame. She was an excellent detective, but I'm afraid she's dead."

"Good," was all B said. He didn't understand. Why now, after all these years, would L come to see him? He would never know. He wasn't even sure L knew himself.

"Your visit is pointless," B pointed out after a moment of complete silence. "Go."

"It may be," L nodded. "But before I go I must ask you one thing." B's eyes looked up into the face he hated so much. L: the world's greatest detective.

"And that is?"

"Well, I wondered vaguely the other day what Ace might think of your situation if she were alive, and I wanted to hear your personal opinion. I find myself reflecting back a lot to the days in Wammy's, for whatever reason."

"What does it matter?" B asked. "She's dead." And she was. She had died many years back, at the hands of B. Her love.

"Yes," L agreed. "You killed her." B's head snapped up. Fast, unexpected. How did he know? A suicide was how she died, everyone had known it. Everyone had believed it. And yet, L saw through him. Of course. And so there was more hate, and more resentment. "Why was that, by the way?" L continued. "I was under the impression that you loved her."

"I did love her," B replied. A defensive tone came from him, and it only built as he spoke. "I loved her more than anything. You don't know anything about what we had."

"I don't," L agreed. "And so what was the point in killing her, if you loved her so deeply?"

"I had to," B told him, looking to the floor. "That's all you need to know."

"Well there must be a reason," L continued. B found his persistence aggravating. "Did she cheat on you? Break your heart maybe?"

"No," B snapped.

"Well what was it?" L continued. "Did she grow tired of your obsession?" B was on his feet now, advancing toward the bars. He was in L's face, but L did not flinch. He stood his ground. "I know you tried to match me for a while. Perhaps she didn't like that."

"You know nothing!" B shouted. His voice was loud, angry, but L kept calm.

"No need to get upset B," he said. "I'm just curious. You see, I suppose part of my reason for being here is that there is a piece of the puzzle missing. You killed her, but why? What is the motive?"

"Just get the hell out of here!" B shouted. It was useless, pointless. L continued, for whatever reason, and B could not make him go.

"Did she push you too hard to be something greater?" L wondered. B's fists clenched, and he pounded the bars that L looked through. The sound was hard and frightening, the chains of his handcuffs clinking against metal. L didn't move. "Maybe she put too much pressure on you to do something with your life." He tilted his head, and B felt that he might explode. He didn't know about the eyes. He didn't know what it was like to see that your love will leave you, and to know that you could do nothing to stop it. He didn't know.

"Shut up!" B shouted. "Stop trying to figure out things that you couldn't possibly understand! You don't know anything about her, or me. I loved her with everything I had. I had to kill her to spare her!"

"Spare her from yourself?" he wondered. "From this murderer ploy you dedicated yourself to? Or was her murder the reason you started the others?" He was relentless. He wouldn't stop. B couldn't stand it. He tried to reach him; tried to throw his hands through the bars. They didn't reach.

"Oh well I suppose you won't tell me. Hmm, it is interesting though…" L trailed off, placing his thumb to his lip. B couldn't help but feel curiosity as to what was so intriguing. Damn curiosity that he knew he would regret.

"What is it?" he asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Well," L began. "I remember a debate I had with Ace so long ago. I was fifteen, I believe. She spoke of compassion. Do you remember?"

"So?" B asked. His voice was hard; annoyed. He was still angry, but he had no fight left. What was the point after all? He would stay here, and L would walk away. A fight was pointless.

"Well, I just find it sad that her unique compassion may have been her downfall. Yes, she probably felt a compassion for you, and caring, and you ultimately killed her. She lost, and you won, at least in that situation. I wonder what her opinion now would be. Justice, or compassion? Would she resent you for taking her life and wish to see you live out the remainder of your days in here, or would she feel sympathy for you?"

"Sympathy," B responded. "She loved me. She would know I had to do what I did. Unlike you, she knows me."

"Yes, I suppose she would still choose compassion," L agreed. "But you have still not answered my first question. What do you think Ace would think of your current situation?" L was looking at him curiously, and B took a moment to think.

First, he could think of nothing but why this man had come. There was no point. And to demand to know his motives for something he didn't understand, that was the worst. He did not know Ace, and he did not know B.

But of course B did not even know himself. He didn't know who he was. He was Beyond Birthday, technically, but what did that mean? He was not the world's greatest detective. He had been third in that aspect. And he was not the world's greatest criminal. He had failed there too. He was nothing. He had become nothing.

But he had known Ace. She was everything. She was beauty, and intelligence, and knowledge. And she had been first. His first love, his first victim. And she had believed in him. Believed in his abilities to become more than what he had become. And what he had become was nothing.

And so finally he found himself thinking about Ace…Allison…and what she might think of him now. Would she recognize the leftover image of the man she once loved? Would she see what he had become and be disgusted by what she saw? Was she watching him now, wishing he had done something greater? She had always believed he would be great, and he had wasted his days becoming the nothing that he now considered himself to be. And suddenly he knew the answer to L's question. He knew.

"Disappointment," B finally said. Quiet, and truthful. He felt something against his eyes. Wet and stinging. Tears. "She would be disappointed in what I have become." And he knew she would have been. She had coaxed him to become his own person; to follow his own path. Great advice he had never taken. He had tried to defeat L, and it had ruined him. He had failed, and he knew that if she were around today she would be disappointed in him. It would have hurt her.

"Yes I suppose so," L nodded. "Thank you for your thoughts on the subject, B." He noticed B's tears, but chose not to comment. He had work to do; the most difficult case of his life. Kira. Light Yagami. He had to prove that young man's guilt, and so he had to go. "Goodbye." And with that simple phrase, he turned and headed from the cell. The guard met him and led him out, and B was alone. Silent, sad, and alone.

And he thought, in that moment of his own sadness, tears rolling down his cheeks, that he would spend the rest of his life in this cell. He would think of Allison every day, now with the realization that she was watching him with disappointment. And that realization had been L's fault too, and so he hated him further. And he wondered if Allison hated him now, and it hurt. He felt an emotion he was unfamiliar with. Pain. It was searing, and unrelenting, and it was all he could feel.

And suddenly, a different pain. A sudden pain. It was in his chest, and he clutched the area in surprise with a scream, falling onto the bed as the realization struck. He would not spend the rest of his life in that cell. It was over now. Kira had spared him that pain.

A scream echoed through the jail. Off the walls and every surface it could find. Other prisoners shuddered, and the guards knew.

"Oh, not another one," the guard leading L from the building sighed. "Just continue straight out," he said to L, pointing the way. "I have to go find out which one it is this time." And so he hurried off, leaving L behind him. But L already knew which one it was. It was B. He was meeting his end.

"Light…" L sighed, turning back toward the direction that would bring him to the exit. It was Kira, and he had struck again. But L would solve the case; it was his only goal. He had solved countless others in the past, including the Los Angeles BB Murder Case, and he would solve this one. Kira must be stopped.

And so, L left the prison. And at the same moment, B was leaving the world. Everything was growing dim around him, and soon he could see nothing. Blankness, darkness, nothing. Just like he had become.

But in his last moments, he thought of her. A. Ace. Allison Holloway. His love. At least he would get to see her again. It was what he hoped for. And if he did get to look into the vivid green of her eyes again, he hoped she would forgive him. He hoped he could make it up to her, and he wanted nothing more than to feel the love that she had so unconditionally given him. She filled his every thought as the world slipped away. She would be his last thought; _should_ be his last thought.

Only she wasn't.

Instead, it was him. Instead of love, it was hate. An obsession he'd held forever filled his mind, replacing her and their love. To be the greatest was his mission, and in that mission he had failed. And in his last moments, he could think of nothing else. He could think of nothing but him. And it would be his very last thought, as if Allison Holloway had never mattered. As if everything she had taught him had been nothing. He had thrown every lesson away in his attempt to beat him. And he never did, and he never would. Never.

And so, as he left the world behind, B thought of him. His obsession, his enemy, and the object of his hatred. The world's greatest detective. L.

The End


End file.
